


If the Sky Fell Apart, We Would Still Have the Rain

by Puniyo



Series: Let Them Talk [4]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Prostitution, Sexual Content, There will be fluff, Unrequited Love, alternative universe, angst fest, crude language, demons of the past, is it really unrequited, play on kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-14 06:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16487342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/pseuds/Puniyo
Summary: The whole room seems to be swinging in a whirlwind of their memories, of their half-lit cigarettes and drunken kisses, of ripped cheques that they had thrown out of the window and descended to the streets like snowflakes, of bloody bandages and semi-conscious ethanol induced laughter. Of soft lips, Yuzuru’s, and well-versed tongue, Javier’s. Of hardened erections, both.'I thought we were together in this.'‘You’re wrong Javi.’Chapter 2 updated. Completed as per 04-11-2018.





	1. The sky falls

**Author's Note:**

> Dear all, here is the 'final' installment for Rain. Because this would turn out to be quite long, I decided to split it into two parts. Also I needed this initial 'setting' for the final revelations, sort of. I wonder if I'm really a gloomy person for writing such angst fests *sighs*
> 
> Note: more than Yuzuru who is this (supposed) cinnamon roll, I find Javier in this universe much more intriguing to write and I promise (I shouldn't) that he has his reasons for acting the way he does. It's all for the melancholic plot.
> 
> Disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION. The content here does not reflect the people mentioned.

The apartment is still the same chaotic wreckage when Yuzuru had rushed to the phone call. Empty plastic boxes of noodles and cans of soup with pasta with face shapes for children, towels stained with hair dye and rainbow chopsticks on the table. Javier leans on the wooden door frame as Yuzuru fetches two bottles of water from the miniature fridge, one for each to rinse the unfiltered coarse grains of coffee from earlier. He takes it but instead of drinking it, he uses the bottle as an accessory for his one-man musical act.

‘ _Solo otra vez, no se vivir_.’

It’s the Spanish rendition of _All by Myself_ and he continues for a few more verses, reinventing the lyrics as he keeps singing.

‘When I was young, making love was just for fun.’

‘Javi–‘

The Spaniard shakes his hand and points the bottle to Yuzuru. ‘Did you have fun?’

‘Stop this please.’

Yuzuru picks up a few discarded t-shirts on the floor and throws them all to the bathroom, away from his sight. He takes a gulp of the water, cold, almost freezing, triggering a few cough spasms. He wipes off a trail of the liquid and his own saliva, and notices Javier seated on the bed, fidgeting the small vials of lubricant, relaxing oils, and condoms from the drawer of his nightstand.

‘You’re finally breaking free from all the filth. Should I be proud of you?’

He is still recovering from the scratchy convulsion on his throat but Javier’s accusatory tone is a silk scarf constricting his airways and choking him.

‘Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?’

‘Is this why you want to run away?’ Javier puts all the items back to its original place and closes the drawer with a forceful swing of wrist. The loud impact resonates in the apartment. ‘Do you think it’s easy for me?’

_Don’t look at me with those eyes Javi. I don’t want any more lies._

‘I thought we were together in this. I thought you and I– ’

‘We what?’ Yuzuru walks in small circles like a confused dog trying to catch its own tail. ‘What are _we_ Javi?’ He waits for an answer but is greeted with silence. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t want to escape. You’re the one who wants a wife and kids.’

‘So you’re getting married now? Is this why you met with Madame Unicorn, to ask for Fala’s hand and her open legs too?’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘Am I? For believing you would always be here.’

The whole room seems to be swinging in a whirlwind of their memories, of their half-lit cigarettes and drunken kisses, of ripped cheques that they had thrown out of the window and descended to the streets like snowflakes, of bloody bandages and semi-conscious ethanol induced laughter. Of soft lips, Yuzuru’s, and well-versed tongue, Javier’s. Of hardened erections, both.

‘You’re wrong Javi.’

‘Yeah, I’m wrong. I’m always wrong.’

‘Why are you so against me moving away?’ Hope is the thing with feathers, they say, but Yuzuru has learned long ago that the wings are shot down even before taking flight. He grips the plastic bottle until it collapses and crumples on his hands, the veins in his arm popping on the skin. ‘Tell me Javi, what am I to you? A friend? A brother? A jerk off buddy?’ He feels tears well in his eyes, pestilent drops that he is tired of shedding. ‘Will I ever mean anything else to you?’

Javier hesitates but he chuckles – a wail of self-pity and ironic tragedy. ‘I thought you enjoyed it, Yuzu, being fucked by whoever bought you.’

Yuzuru bites his lower lip so hard it draws blood, smearing in red like a cherry lipstick. The metallic taste is repulsive, it sticks to his palate and corrodes his teeth. He wants to throw up.

‘Fuck you Javi. _Fuck you_ Javier Fernández.’

‘Why not? A goodbye fuck. I promise I’ll make it good.’

Yuzuru leaves the apartment without even closing the door. He sprints down the steps, missing a few as he turns the endless corners. His fingers slip on the handrail and he almost falls if not for his feline reflexes. His shoulder hits the wall and there is a weird sound but his heart is racing a formula one track contained by his steel ribs. He can’t breathe and the tiles are sharply cold, the ones that torture but don’t kill. He ignores Brian’s rant on the way as he steps outside the building, not even once looking up at window of his apartment. It’s a beautiful day, devoid of clouds and even the blue vastness of the sky can’t cover the burning sunrays.

It must be the gods mocking him, Yuzuru believes.

Back into the flat, Javier lies on the chamomile-scented sheets. Not chamomile, but the smell of Yuzuru, unique and one that he can’t explain. He inhales deeply on the pillow letting it fill his nostrils and hammer his temples for his absurdity.

‘Why can’t you be honest for once, Javier?’

His inner voice speaks of the truth and he refuses to swallow it. If Yuzuru wanted to leave, he would let him go.

_We belong to us only._

Javier throws the pillow to the small table of the apartment, a sudden rush of anger short-circuiting his brain. A tiny feather levitates on the air in slow motion as the head support hits a mug, driving it to the ground. It breaks into large chunks, staining the floor with leftover green tea. Javier notices that it’s the mug that Yuzuru always used, no matter what drink. It was his favorite. It was also the one he had given him for his birthday.

‘What am I doing?’

 

 

_Six months ago_

 

‘First class flight, pink champagne, what else is under your sleeve?’

They both walk in minute steps on their fifth round on the revolving door. Yuzuru is the first one to step into the lobby of the hotel in an unstable pace. The bellboy in red holds him by the arm but Javier dismisses his help and they both hold on to each other. There are children who find their play amusing but their parents forbid them with stern glares.

‘A merry-go-round of horses with boobs. And dicks. Huge dicks.’

Yuzuru fixes the collar of his denim jacket and he pulls Javier to his feet. ‘C’mon, let’s see whether you can apply to join their circus.’

The entrance hall is as majestic as the ones depicted on magazines tailored for business magnates. The diamond chandeliers could probably feed him for a year (at least), just like the jade sculptures at each corner. Even the marble rubbish bins are intricately carved with crystal ashtrays on top. All the luxury of the place is unsettling and Yuzuru knows that all the strangers, even the boy in the cleaning uniform, is staring at him and his interloper silhouette.

‘It’s only a hotel Yuzu. But it’s probably the best one we’ve been to though.’

The young man nods and he leans infinitesimally closer to Javier’s hand on his shoulder.

‘Let me guess, you asked for the presidential suite.’

‘I’m neither greedy nor ungrateful.’ Javier too admires the opulence of the place, winking at the single ladies on the bar area. ‘It’s the Queen’s Palace. It’s only their second best one.’

Yuzuru rolls his eyes and chuckles at their luck, he hopes it is luck and not fate with a branded pitchfork ready to stab his ass, but he notices a woman behind the wine flutes and colored flasks and decanters waving at their direction. Javier’s grip intensifies and he starts to feel the fingers pressing stiffly on his shoulder blade. He nudges away from the pain and the Spaniard apologizes.

‘Do you know her?’ There is a tinge of longing that Yuzuru had never seen in Javier’s eyes. Just like the conflicting penance that threatens to shatter the composure of his current mask.

‘No, I–‘ Javier stares at his feet but his gaze is soon drawn to that woman again. ‘Can you check us both in? I just need a second.’ And he drops his bag, walking away to the lounge.

The concierge is the only one in the hotel who genuinely smiles at Yuzuru as the young man informs him of their personal details and awkwardly tells him that he doesn’t deserve one of their best suites.

‘Why not sir? A young man as fine as you surely have an equally refined taste.’

Yuzuru nods in appreciation of the praise, even if it was a standard greeting from the hotel’s front desk manual of instruction. He turns around while the remaining bureaucracies engage the typing of keyboards and photocopying passport front pages. He scans the periphery for Javier’s shadow and he wonders who that woman is. The Spaniard has his hands in his pockets and he tilts on the balls of his feet but when she drops her white _liteau_ draped on her arm to hug him, he returns the embrace, his face so close to hers as he smiles and twirls her around the guests.

Yuzuru knows not who she is, but he wishes he was the one in that pirouette. He can still feel the sting of Javier’s nails delving into his clavicle and he wonders if she can feel it too. If she had felt it before. If she will feel it tonight.

‘Sir, here is the key to your room.’ The raspy voice of the concierge’s brings his attention back and he pretends to confirm the information on the small magnetic card before his jealousy encages him completely. ‘This one too sir.’ This time, it’s the key for the presidential penthouse.

‘There must be a mistake.’

‘It is written on our request list that it should be handed to Mr. Hanyu upon his arrival.’

It only takes a couple of seconds for Yuzuru to surmise the guest behind such demand.

‘Is there anything else I could help you with?’

Javier kisses the woman on the cheek before returning to the check-in counter. His hands are again shoved on his pockets but he is more relaxed and he stretches his legs to suppress a yawn.

‘A dog’s leash.’ Yuzuru mumbles to himself.

‘Excuse me sir?’

‘Nothing.’ He smiles and stealthy hides the other cardkey on his bag.

Yuzuru doesn’t ask Javier questions on their journey up the elevator.

 

 

The door is not locked and opens without resistance when Yuzuru flaunts the extra card on the electronic pad. It’s the highest floor in the hotel and the number is seldom pressed by the other guests but here was he, leaving his fingerprints on the silver handle. Inside, the room is dimly lit, only two standing avant-garde lamps in opposite corners. He marvels at the view over the city, large window panes that were mirrors and cars on a cycle of roundabouts and traffic lights. These look like a swarm of fireflies with neon colors caught in a child’s jar.

Yuzuru picks a couple of raspberries and drops them on the only half full flute on the table. White wine. The same one that Javier had had on the flight to J.

‘I should have known you would be here.’ He walks to the bedroom, leaning on the door and taking a sip of the drink. Not sweet enough.

‘It wouldn’t be challenging, would it, if I just called the nice gentleman downstairs?’ Madame Unicorn is sitting on the edge of the king size bed and has just finished the last drop on her glass and Yuzuru fills her another one with the open bottle at the floor, next to her feet. ‘Where is your Javier?’

Yuzuru laughs. _His Javier_. The world has never known such lie.

‘He is sleeping like a good puppy. It’s the jet lag. But you would know this, right?’ He rests his crystal flute, the wine barely touched with the fruits on the bottom, on the nightstand. ‘Why didn’t you call for us on the plane? We could have given you a taste of _high_ love, above the clouds.’

‘Always the romantic.’ She extends her hand to Yuzuru, guiding him to where she could properly look at him. ‘But they couldn’t arrange the pilot uniform on time. With the four golden stripes.’

Yuzuru kneels in front of her and kisses her bare knee. There was a Celtic triquetra tattooed on the skin just above the bone. Madame Unicorn was a woman forgiven by the flow of time. Her fiery curls accentuated the freckles on her cheeks and also the wrinkles at the corner of her brown eyes. A lighter brown unlike Javier’s almonds. She wore no makeup and Yuzuru appreciated her courage to not cover her flaws. It only made her more elegant.

‘You’re beautiful Madame.’ He planted another kiss, this time on her other knee. ‘No matter how many years have passed.’

‘And always insolent.’ She pulls him up until he is sitting on her lap. She plays with his beads necklace dawdling the rhombus pendant over his nose and mouth. ‘Do you know why you are here?’

Yuzuru unbuttons the top buttons of her blouse, enough to have a better look at her cleavage. ‘I asked you for a ticket last time,’ he fondles one of her breasts through the fabric, ‘but I need a ride now.’

She wraps her arms around his neck, yearning for more contact. ‘You’re very smart Yuzuru. Why don’t you become mine?’

He pushes her down to the mattress, removing the rest of buttons and opening the garment, exposing her chest to the cold air of the room. He licks one of the areolas with the tip of his tongue and sucks on the nipple ardently, looking to quench his thirst like a newborn child. Madame Unicorn searches for his hand and places it on her other bosom, the simultaneous stimulation distilling the most controlled moans from her throat.

‘That would be breaking the rules of the game.’ He pretends to thrust into her, his fully clothed crotch rubbing against her pelvis. ‘Wouldn’t it, _mother_?’

She lets a delightful whimper at that name. ‘Cheeky fucker. If I didn’t like you so much, you would be on the streets already.’

‘But you do like me, _mommy_.’ He spreads her legs apart. ‘I’ve been a good boy.’

‘That’s why I’ll reward you.’

Yuzuru pulls away her underwear, a wet patch already evident on the silk panties, and he lowers his head. That is when he notices an address written on her inner thigh, extending near her labia. Saya’s address.

_We all make sacrifices to survive._

Yuzuru doesn’t think of Madame Unicorn, crying unabashedly as his fingers penetrate her, of his sister, and even of Javier. He thinks of nothing, except his own miserable existence, there, bringing the ultimate pleasure to another human body when he remained flaccid and cold.

He just wished she would reach her climax soon.

 

 

The small garden in front of the only white door on that street was the best maintained one, Yuzuru noticed. There was no lawn but small round patches of loamy soil circled by polished pebbles and a couple of trimmed Japanese camellias. There was also a bird bath basin on the corner and the water looked impeccably clean.

Sweat ran down the palm of his hands and he curled and uncurled his fingers before deciding to press the doorbell. It was a simple monotone ring but it startled him by its ferocious loudness. A couple of seconds passed by and he thought of just turning around and leave. His heart almost jumped out of the ribcage, refusing to settle back to its cavern when he heard footsteps approaching.

What if it was the wrong address? What if she didn’t want to see him? What if he wasn’t the person he was before?

_Who were you in the first place, Yuzuru?_

The door opens and the young man takes a step backwards, almost stumbling on the step. The entrance hall is empty and no one is behind the doorknob. It’s like a prank on a haunted house and Yuzuru swallows dry. He sees a tiny hand grabbing the wooden rail and a head that pops up on the side, eyeing him from below with both curiosity and confusion.

‘Hikaru, I told you many times to not–‘

The woman running with a half apron stops abruptly when she sees him clad in jeans and a vintage messenger bag across his torso. She is young, the delicate blanched complexion accentuating the flushed tinge of crimson of her nose. Her hair was caught on a ponytail and it already reached her shoulders. It was dark and fell straight with gravity and with not much volume, just like his.

‘Saya? It’s me.’

_As if she would still recognize me after all these years._

‘Yuzuru?’ He nods. She experimentally brushes her fingertips on his elbow, desperately confirming if he was a ghastly apparition or a real body that would not crumble at the slightest contact. ‘Yuzu?’

He nods again. ‘It’s me.’ He stands there as her hands keep roaming his chest, his neck, his face. He was like clay being molded into some sort of shape that only she knew. Saya kept calling his name, variations of his name, all of which he just accepted until she was sobbing, her eyes swollen and her nose congested.

‘I thought you were–‘

The child behind the door charges at Yuzuru, his forehead hitting his shin. He barely loses balance with the impact but he finds his Lilliputian fists assaulting his knee to be commendable. He crouches next to him, receiving one of the blows on his jaws, which scares the toddler.

‘I’m not here to hurt your mommy.’

‘Come in.’ Saya picks up the small boy and reprimands him for his impulsive and impetuous temper at his uncle. ‘I can’t believe you’re really here.’

Yuzuru can’t believe it either.

 

 

Saya’s home was everything that Yuzuru’s apartment never had the opportunity to be. The ironed curtains matched the textile of the sofa, which was invaded by a horde of miniature trucks and cubes with letters and numbers. The living room smelled of fresh lavender picked directly from the fields while the kitchen still had the spicy fragrance of the leftover vegetable stew from lunch. Even the mug that Yuzuru was using to sip green tea was exempt of any stain.

‘How did you find me?’ Saya sat across him, her own hot drink brewing a trail of cinnamon. She stretched her hand to smoother his unruly strands that defied the earlier wind. Hikaru was entertained with a red bean mochi but he would occasionally steal glances at Yuzuru and give him a smile with pieces of sticky rice between his teeth.

‘I have never forgotten you, Saya.’

And he didn’t. He still knew the softness of her grasp against the white sand, the way she would ride her bicycle to buy him a lollipop with her pocket money. The way they would hide under the backyard sink when she missed her math homework.

‘There isn’t a day I don’t think of you. Where you would be, what you would be doing, if you were lonely without Pooh-san.’

Yuzuru’s eyes were too full marbles, round and shimmering, at the mention of his favorite bear. ‘Do you still have it?’

‘It’s Hikaru’s favorite, isn’t it?’ She turns to her son who is oblivious to their conversation. ‘It was the only thing that the water didn’t take away from me.’

A shiver runs down his spine as he vaguely remembers the tsunami and Yuzuru folds his arms, bracing his frail chest. ‘I’m still here.’ He shakes his head, dispersing the waves that crashed on the flood of his mind. ‘I will be _good_.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She grabs his wrist, massaging the skin there, the veins, the arteries, the nerves. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore those people.’

‘What?’

‘You don’t have to go back Yuzu. You don’t. You don’t deserve _that_.’

He retracted his hand, shocked at her revelation. How could she know? How could she know about the cars that pulled on the berm of the sidewalk to negotiate for a price to have him spread apart on their windshields? How could she know about the murky alleys and his knees on the wet, soiled concrete while his mouth was full with the same sickness that fed him? How could she know about her little brother who was fucked for money because that was the only affection he could still buy?

‘The postcard.’

She tried once again to reach for him but he shook his head. He would not let the filth corrupt that haven.

‘You didn’t send the postcard.’ He chuckled, biting his lower lip like all the times he couldn’t breathe. Until when would he still be caught in the web of Madame Unicorn?

‘It doesn’t matter Yuzu. You are here now. No one can hurt you anymore.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You can Yuzu. You can stay here with us. There is no one waiting for you.’

There is. There is a man of chestnut curls and almond eyes that brings him breakfast every day and ruffles his bedsheets right after making his bed. There is this man with a funny Spanish accent that takes showers on his bathroom to save on his own water bills and would intoxicate in vodka bubbles.

‘There is.’ He repeats those words because iterating them would make the spell work. ‘I need him.’

‘But does he need you?’

Yuzuru stops on his chair, his body tensing but immediately going limp. ‘I will not leave him.’

If farces were told long enough, they would be rewritten as truth. Yuzuru believes so.

 

 

It’s almost midnight when Yuzuru returns to the Queen’s Palace. He tiptoes into the room, afraid he would make any sort of noise. A few candles provide a balanced contrast of warmth and illuminance to the wide area of their suite. His and Javier’s. The world’s luxury only for them.

Just as he places down the cardkey, Javier emerges from the bedroom, shirtless and holding a white robe. Yuzuru notices the same woman that morning during check-in, the same one that hugged the Spaniard, removing the elastic band that held her hair in a meticulous bun.

‘Can you come back later, Yuzuru? Have a drink on my tab. I don’t want to share this one.’

_I will not leave him._

_But will you stay with me forever, Javi?_


	2. We Invite the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pair of arms cover Javier's shoulders, hugging him from behind. Yuzuru rests his chin on the crook of his shoulder blade. ‘Is everything okay?’
> 
> ‘Yeah.’ He leans back, completely trusting the younger man in not letting him fall. ‘Will you,’ he almost whispers, ‘will you really leave?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear all, Rain is finally finished! *throws confetti and blows nose* I really fell in love with this universe so I might come back occasionally for some one-shot or two if my muses amuse me. I just happened to have survived GP Helsinki, so what the creator (i.e. me) takes, the creator also gives back. I think you'll understand why after you read. 
> 
> Note: I believe Javi deserves his own installment so I might write something on his point of view. 
> 
> Disclaimer: this is purely FICTION. Anything written here has no connection whatsoever with the people mentioned.

The singer at the lounge has no point of resemblance with the woman in his room, Yuzuru notices. The woman seated at a tall stool and with a double bass leaning on her thighs pluck the strings as if tickling a cat. She is blonde, her hair reflecting the red spotlight on her and the band. She is voluptuous, the cleavage of her dress down almost to her belly button and barely containing her breasts, and her voice was even stronger, humming tribal vowels in jazz notes.

_I don’t want to share her. You can’t handle this one Yuzuru._

The waiter arrives with his cocktail and Yuzuru tips him generously with a few extra notes that he pulled out from his pocket. The white daisy at the rim of the glass contrasted sharply with the orange drink. He knew not what it was, but the alcohol is injected immediately up his nose and he crunches his eyes for the sudden spasm on his forehead.

_You should find some bed to warm up tonight. This one is taken. Do me this favor._

Yuzuru raises his glass to the singer, the toast not for her though. It’s for Javier, for his success in their bed, and a toast for himself, to have come and conquered – his own stupidity. He really closes his eyes this time, dizziness overcoming him and the mixture of different tonics and spirits scratching his throat. It’s not sweet, it’s not suave and there is nothing Spanish in it except for the colors of the flag.

_I like you Yuzu._

He finally recognizes the different ingredients in his cocktail – a dash of charm, a spoon of selfishness, a jigger of broken promises, filled to the brim with lies and garnished with Latin lisps. Yuzuru swallows each fragrance until the last drop, the unshed tears burning his eyelids. He quickly grabs a paper napkin to smoother his bout of cough.

_Even now you want to kill me Javi._

‘Can I offer you another one?’

A young man sits across him, hindering his view to the stage. He wore a single piece of earring, just a simple long chain that barely brushed his shoulders. He had the same dark hair but parted to the opposite side of the accessory. Yuzuru didn’t know if it complimented his elongated eyes or if it made him look like a failed guitarist of a grunge band.

‘Was it for your lover?’ The newly arrived guest points to the glass with his own green bottle.

‘Bingo.’ Yuzuru puts it down on the coaster again. The three ice cubes hadn’t melted yet. ‘Except that he was never mine.’

The young man plays with the minimalistic tumbler and sucks on the stem of the daisy. He grimaces at the bitterness of the few remaining droplets. ‘And will never be.’

‘Are you trying to comfort me? You’re doing an amazing job at it.’

‘Sorry.’

Yuzuru notices how the stranger steals glances at him occasionally, peaking from under his eyelashes, without keeping his gaze for too long. Too nervous and lacking experience. He leans forward, his fingertips sweeping by the young man’s knuckles.

‘Do you want to buy me?’ The corners of his mouth curve into a smirk. It must be the alcohol. ‘Or would you like me to buy you?’

The stranger’s eyes had never been bigger, pupils dilated, and his cheeks grow in shades of red, like a ripe tomato. ‘You’re also–‘

‘Won’t you buy me a drink instead? I’ll have same as yours.’

The same waiter passes by to take the new order and he returns with a glass bottle. Yuzuru doesn’t tip this time but he requests the bill to be sent to the Queen’s Palace. The beer has almost no taste after the cocktail.

‘Is this your territory?’

He truly laughs, uninhibited, almost choking on the malted brew. Yuzuru hits his chest a few times to ease the excessive air lodged on his chest and the bottle almost slips through his fingers. His high-pitched laughter is a sharp contrast to the velvety contralto of _Fly Me to the Moon._

‘Where are we? In the jungle?’ What a curious stranger this one, lacking confidence in fishing a client. ‘You’re doing a pretty good job so far.’

‘With the wrong person.’

‘You can still buy me.’

The young man finally looks at him frontally and he reclines on the chair, the weight of his whole body relaxing on the cushioned back support. ‘I guess I could take a day off.’

The music is soon forgotten and Yuzuru finds himself teasing the wannabe rock star but also sharing stories about his past clients, the ones that worshipped him and also those that had sent him numerous times to the emergency room. He doesn’t know why but he listens to the other man’s fears and another bottle, this time a _frizzante_ , fills their glasses.

‘You know,’ Yuzuru notices how the stranger’s lips are slightly swollen and how the fleshy redness suck on the rim of the glass just a little too long, ‘I wouldn’t mind having your lips on me. There is a ladies’ room on the first floor that is rather small. I would have to be very quiet and you would try to make me cry because the idea of people finding us excites you.’

It is a full blush by now and Yuzuru apologizes for his joke.

‘Have you done something like that?’

He neither confirms or refutes the claim, taking another sip from the sparkling wine. He realizes now what he liked about the stranger. There was an innocence imbued in his voice and the virtue of purity reflected in his irises.

Yuzuru has long lost it. It was all an ironic game on fate’s dices.

‘What is your name?’

‘Tian. It means– ’

‘The sky.’ Boyish, not touched by sin. Attractive but so different from… ‘Why be the sky when you can be the universe?’

‘One day. One day I’ll be the universe when I escape this prison.’

So different from Javier, Yuzuru thinks. Javier was danger, the sin itself. Being with Javier was like walking on eggs and not knowing which ones would break. Javier consumed him like wildfire, gnawing more than it could chew. The stranger in front of him was an open book but Javier was a hidden manuscript written with magical ink.

The young man saw them as victims. Javier saw them as heroes.

The live music had already finished and the lounge was under a generic selection of easy listening songs from different decades. Yuzuru stands up to leave but Tian grabs his wrist.

‘Won’t you stay… for the night?’

‘If my ass wasn’t so fucked up, I would take you.’

‘I think you’re beautiful.’

He gently pulls his hand back, aware of the brisk pulse of the stranger. ‘That’s why you should find someone else for your night.’

Yuzuru wonders which choice he will regret more – not accepting Tian’s offer or going back to the suite.

 

 

The room is completely dark except for the cosmopolitan irradiation and the curtain of stars of the night. Yuzuru can hear the sound of the shower running but he sees no one on the bed, no naked woman, stilettos or hair tied in a bun. Wasn’t this Javier’s favorite way of conducting business? Once the transaction is done, each one to their own nest.

Yuzuru sits on the edge of the mattress, his hand smoothing the ruffled sheet. It was almost as before, except for a few bumps and creases. He removes his shoes and he lays his head between the two extra-large pillows. Javier’s pine cologne penetrates his nostrils and he inhales deeper to see if he could have them all – the cologne, the musk, the sex. Greedy, he laughs at himself.

‘You’re late.’

Javier is completely naked except for the towel around his waist and he hugs Yuzuru from behind. His hair is still damp and the water drops fall on the younger’s man neck. They both lie there, in the bed, the duvet faithfully folded on the floor.

‘You offered me a drink and I couldn’t refuse.’ Yuzuru tries to move and free himself from the embrace but the toned arms intensify their grip.

‘I assume you had fun since you’re in a good mood.’

‘I met a cute boy.’

‘Cuter than me?’

‘Definitely better than you.’

‘You should have asked him to come.’

‘I don’t share.’

The room falls silent, like the many times when their masks crack and pieces crumble. Javier’s warm breath tickles the nape of his neck and his hands try to look for Yuzuru’s, who dodges the contact and shifts his legs, curling into a fetal position.

‘I need to pee.’

‘Liar.’ The Spaniard dives into the mop of his straight hair and nudges even closer. ‘Can I… can I hug you?’

_Aren’t you already, Javier? Taking from me what you know I will always give you._

‘Being a human cushion has its price.’

Yuzuru can feel the smile descending his scalp to his earlobe and gingerly resting there. ‘Will you leave me Yuzu one day?’

There is something unusually wrong with Javier’s clinginess but Yuzuru still doesn’t answer him. It must be the crave for physical contact after sex, the desperation to have someone to hold on to after being exposed to the core. He doesn’t move, allowing Javier to satisfy nothing but the physiological urgency.

‘I didn’t do it, Yuzu. Nothing happened.’

‘Why?’ He is not sure he wants to hear the truth.

‘My dick is still only for you.’

Even if it’s a lie, the younger man’s heart is suddenly beating faster, infinitesimally quicker, and tiny sparks jolt his extremities. ‘I really need to pee.’

‘Stay. You can wet the bed.’

Yuzuru turns around, his shoulder slamming Javier against the pillow and his side of the bed. He is careful though not to knee his crotch as he sits and hops forward so he is not caught again. The Spaniard is amused by his clumsy walk but it is wistful the way he stretches and fixes his gaze on the ceiling, pensive and locked in his own tempestuous mystery.

‘You would have to lick it clean.’

‘With pleasure.’

 

 

Yuzuru closes the door of the bathroom a little too forceful. He flushes the toilet after a while to pretend having released himself, although they both knew the lie since the beginning. The person reflected on the mirror is a stranger to him and he stares a few more times to see if it would move on its own. Did Javier see through this doppelganger and still wanted to touch it?

He strips off his clothes, the t-shirt discarded at the corner and his jeans dropping to his feet. He slides his hand under his briefs, just enough to trace the length of his manhood, already hard. He rubs it slowly, until the tip, pressing on the slit. A sharp whimper escapes his lips and he hastily covers his mouth with his other hand. It is his hands but they feel like Javier’s and he strokes in an unsteady pace, his nails grazing the oversensitive erection. He comes chanting the Spaniard’s name muffled by his palm.

Yuzuru chooses the shower instead of the bathtub and he sits by the tiles, letting the cold water soak his underwear and washing away the remnants of lust and the semen down his thighs.

 

 

Yuzuru doesn’t know what time it is and he leaves the bedside lamp off. He keeps the cotton robe, shoving the tips of the tie into the pockets, too lazy to change into something else, and he lies down gently to not disturb Javier. He turns his back to him and closes his eyes, although sleep seems impossible that night. He doesn’t flinch when a pair of arms embrace him again, much tighter, almost crushing his bones. Not the kind of hug seeking affection but the one that was too frightened to be left alone.

‘I can’t breathe Javi.’

The grip doesn’t loosen. ‘I know how to perform CPR.’

Javier’s hands pry open his robe and roam down his abdomen and up to his nipples, pinching and fondling them lightly, mimicking the motion of chest compressions. He slides the garment down the curve of his shoulder and it’s his lips that press on Yuzuru’s armpit, lime and vanilla gel douche, and he bites on the delicate skin. The young man moans and tries to recoil at the ticklish caress.

‘Still so sensitive Yuzu.’

Their faces are mere inches apart but Javier doesn’t kiss him. He blows just enough air to tingle Yuzuru’s upper lip until the flow of oxygen becomes a low whistle and they both burst in laughter. The younger man elbows the Spaniard to go back to his own half of the bed but he refuses and his arms won’t unfasten the link around Yuzuru.

‘I really didn’t do it Yuzu. I couldn’t.’

Yuzuru glances at the window pane. In the darkness of the room, he thinks he had just seen a shooting star for the two of them.

‘There are things that I don’t want to talk about, things I want to forget.’

The younger man nods. He too had his secrets. ‘I don’t need to know.’

‘But I need you. You might not remember Yuzu but I will never forget the first time we have met.’

They both lie against each other’s body, letting the warmth seep into their skins. Javier’s toe pokes the younger man’s ankle and it is held prisoner by his feet. It is not the most comfortable position but neither of them changes it.

Yuzuru doesn’t know what time it is but the sky is already becoming lighter.

‘Javi?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Your CPR sucks.’

 

 

_Present_

 

Yuzuru returns to this apartment after a few hours wandering around the neighborhood. The nearest park was full with dogs that insisted on jumping to him for a pat or two and children balancing on the swings to reach new heights. He doesn’t remember going to one when he was their age. He buys a bottle of water in the supermarket just on the corner, deviating for brief minutes to the electronics section to make his usual inspection of the newest models of headphones and headsets.

The apartment looks exactly the same as when he had dashed through the door, except that it was empty with no Javier or condoms on his bed. Yuzuru sits on the floor, next to the broken shards of his mug, the tea stain on the floor already dried. He picks the pieces and try to put them back together like a puzzle but the more variations he does, the less it resembles what it once was. He hugs his knees to his chest and drops his head.

What is already broken can’t be fixed anymore.

Someone knocks at his door, calm at first until it becomes frantic like the marching call of a drum. It must be Brian to yell at him for the noise this morning. He makes the mental note to add a few extra notes on his rent envelope this month as he opens the door.

It is one of his white bed sheets, the one with the blood stains dyed on its fabric. It covers the guest from head to toes except the blue trainers. Yuzuru knows perfectly well who is under it.

‘I want Javi back, not the ghost.’

‘I’m a white flag.’

‘Stop stealing my laundry every week.’

Yuzuru pulls the white sheet but its length is such that they both stumble inside the apartment as Javier loses balance. The Spaniard takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his unruly curls, removing them from his line of sight.

‘You need to change your washing power.’

‘It’s none of your business.’ Yuzuru folds the sheet into a large roll and shoves it sloppily inside of one his drawers.

‘Cheap asshole.’

‘Learned from the best.’

They stare at each other for a few seconds as if time had stopped in that space, before the chirping of the bird outside his window distracts them both. Javier is the first one to move, breaking from the awkward trance between them and starts picking up the different clothing items and throwing them to the bed. He nods in approval of some while looking confused at others.

‘What are you doing?’ Yuzuru watches the other man juggling from one side to the other, going inside the bathroom and coming out with empty hands or a bottle or two on his consecutive visits. ‘Are you getting rid of my things?’

‘I’m helping you pack.’ Javier stops and sits on the edge of the bed. He presses the palms of his hands together. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just… you are right. You want… I can’t–‘ He chuckles at his inability to put two words together. ‘You should be with your sister.’

‘Javi–‘

‘Family is important.’ Javier’s voice cracks and he is suddenly a child, a lost child. ‘Family… damn Yuzu. This is not your cage.’

‘Stop Javi.’

‘Go away. Go to where they can’t hurt you anymore.’

Yuzuru pushes Javier’s legs open and lodges there, hugging the Spaniard’s head against his taut frame. He runs his fingers through Javier’s scalp, soothing the erratic breathing and the apologizes that bleed from his throat. He can feel the same strong arms on his back, on the ridges of his spine, pulling his shirt with so much want, craving for closeness and the intimacy only they knew of.

‘Do you want me to go?’

‘Yes.’ The syllable resonates in the muscles of his abdomen. ‘No. Don’t go.’

‘Spoiled brat.’ Yuzuru takes a step back, just enough to fix his own gaze at the almond eyes. He still can’t read them. ‘Why?’

‘Sex is easy. People buy our dicks for a few cents and we give them all. They can fuck me as long they pay. Even love. There is nothing we can’t fake. But you Yuzuru,’ Javier slips a hand inside the shirt, imperatively needing the confirmation that the younger man is really there, ‘you are more real than anything.’

Javier lifts the shirt further up, pressing a kiss to the belly button. The small whimper from Yuzuru encourages him to keep his lips there and he rubs his face, his nose, his chin, not wanting to let go.

‘You should shave.’

They both smile. Javier gently pulls Yuzuru down until the younger man is sitting on his lap, his legs on either side of his hips. Both their bodies are shaking, trembling at the urgency to completely lose in each other. They are masters of pleasure and yet the fingers at the buckle of the belt and on the zipper of the jeans barely make any advances.

It did not liberate their growing erections, but Yuzuru has never felt such freedom before.

‘Lack of skill is very bad for this career Javi.’ He cries in surprise when teeth sink into his Adam’s apple.

‘So demanding. Worse than a fucking virgin.’

‘Careful. I’m _too_ sensitive.’

There is a moment of doubt in Javier but the younger man is the one to bring his hand to his own mouth, kissing the inside of his wrist, the lines on his palms, darting his tongue between the fingers, sucking on the tips.

‘You will kill me Yuzuru.’

The younger man only nods.

 

 

Javier wakes up in the middle of the night, the curtains of the window barely covering the silver full moon. The room is cold, the first few drafts of winter sneaking into the space, but the slender frame next to his is warm, _perfectly_ warm. He lifts his chest, supporting the weight on his elbows, and he just stares at Yuzuru’s back, glistening with sweat and remnants of their sex. He brushes his fingertips on one of the butt cheeks, in particular the bright red teeth mark he had given him, and the younger man moans in his sleep, his body still riding on the bliss of their shared orgasm.

Javier wants to spread him apart again and bury himself inside the same tight heat, inch by inch, to hear his name being called with no restraint. He retrieves his packet of cigarettes from the discarded pants on the floor and he lights one, taking long, lengthy drags. The orange flame consuming the white stick is slow but majestic in its destructive power.

He wonders if time with spare him this time.

Javier gets out of bed carefully to not stir Yuzuru awake and pulls his phone from the same pants. He leaves the apartment, typing a number he knew by heart as he climbed the steps up, bare feet, to the rooftop. It’s cold, the night breeze cutting his skin. He regrets wearing only his boxers, the last puffs of his cigarettes synchronized with the dialing monotone.

‘Who is this?’ The other voice on the line is one of a man, rough and stern.

Javier crushes the filter under the ball of his foot. ‘How are you, father?’

‘Javier? How did you find this number?’

He chuckles, a certain edge to his own vocal chords. ‘Do you think I would forget this number?’

‘I told you to never call me again.’

‘Even after all this time, you still think I did it.’

‘You disgraced me.’

‘Nothing matters but the company, isn’t it?’

‘You could have done anything Javier but prostituting yourself.’

His hand grips the phone harder, pressing it further in his ear. ‘It wasn’t in my bed that she got what she wanted.’ He takes a deep breath, swallowing the rising anger. ‘It was in yours.’

The man on the other line falls silent. Javier thinks it was a mistake to have called.

‘I saw Laura a few months ago in a hotel in J. She said mother had another episode.’ He shoves his free hand into his pocket. The lighter is there but he had forgotten the cigarettes in the apartment. ‘Does she still ask about me?’

‘She doesn’t remember you anymore. It’s better that way.’

It takes a few seconds for Javier to realize it’s not rain on his cheeks but his own tears.

‘I’m not the bad guy, father. It’s this world that makes us the villains.’

‘I’m a busy man Javier. Don’t call me again.’

There are no more sounds from the other side of the line. ‘It was nice meeting you too.’ The phone falls from his grip, just as he sits on the concrete ground. He stares at the starless sky, all the shining dots hiding from his sight.

A pair of arms cover his shoulders, hugging him from behind. Yuzuru rests his chin on the crook of his shoulder blade. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah.’ He leans back, completely trusting the younger man in not letting him fall. ‘Will you,’ he almost whispers, ‘will you really leave?’

‘I never wanted to leave in the first place.’ Yuzuru kisses the Spaniard’s earlobe, red from the frigidness of the night. ‘Do you need something?’

Javier closes his eyes, thinking only of vanilla. ‘Soft lips.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two major notes in case it wasn't clear:
> 
> (1) Tian (天) means 'sky' in both Chinese (read as 'tian') and Japanese (read as 'ten' or 'sora'). In case you haven't realized, that young man who approaches Yuzu at the lounge is Boyang. Boyang has a very endearing nickname called 'Tian Tian'. I always call him that. 
> 
> (2) It was alluded towards the end but the woman Javier hugged on the hotel and that was later in his room was Laura, his sister, so he wasn't lying to Yuzuru when he said he didn't do it.


End file.
